


Soulmates

by TheFaultyWriter



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, jack has a one track mind, jack is a confused baby, not so much fluff as i would have liked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFaultyWriter/pseuds/TheFaultyWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everyone in the world is born with a tattoo on each arm. One signifies their soulmate, and the other matches their worst enemy. However, most people have no clue which is which.”</p><p>Tumblr prompt</p><p>or</p><p>A fic in where Jack grows up believing that Kent Parson is his soulmate no matter what type of hell he puts him through. So, he doesn't know what to think when he sees a similar tattoo on freshman Eric Bittle's arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on the site, and I'm a nervous wreck. I can critique other people's work, but looking at my own? So, have fun, be safe, don't get arrested.
> 
> EDIT: This work was edited on 08/24/16 for content and format. Some aspects of the original text was lengthened in order to build up proper characterization.

“Everyone in the world is born with a tattoo on each arm. One signifies their soulmate, and the other matches their worst enemy. However, most people have no clue which is which.”

* * *

             Jack was completely ecstatic to find out that Parse had the mirror image of his tattoo on his right arm.It made perfect sense to them. They were in sync on and off the ice. They were interested in the same stuff, hung out around the same people, and rarely got into arguments. Although they never formally asked each other out, they were content with just being in each other’s space.

            Finding soulmates and worst enemies was a common occurrence in their world. Both Jack’s parents met their worst enemies during their time working. His Mom met her rival at a fashion show in Milan, while his Dad met his through a particularly brutal match during his time with the Pittsburgh Penguins. 

            The thought never crossed Jack’s mind that perhaps he and Parse weren’t actually soulmates after all. Jack was willing to do anything for Parse, even if that meant attending a couple of out-of-control parties when they were 16, where everyone was drunk out of their minds. Alcohol didn't necessarily tasted bad. Rather, the first couple of drinks had Jack feeling great. As the party progressed, intoxicated laughter ricocheted off the walls and into the night. Jack spent most of those nights unsuccessfully navigating through a wave of people, looking for Parse. By that point, Jack had enough alcohol in his veins to replace the euphoria with a feeling of anxiousness, and when he does spot Parse, he notices him up against the wall, his hand around a pretty brunette. Jack pushed aside the haze of alcohol and the pain as he reached for another drink.

            Like the final piece in the puzzle, soon, everything was becoming too much for Jack. As he began to show more and more promise as a rising star, the small inner bubble of anxiety began to fester. Everyone expected too much out of him: the press, the NHL, himself, Parse. They all seemed certain that he would have an easy road to victory, a constant reminder with every pat on the back and good job's. Yet, Jack didn’t think so, and neither did his anxiety, which continued to grow and grow, feeding on every small insecurity. 

            Parse didn’t understand why Jack was acting this way, and Jack didn’t understand why Parse didn’t understand. If they were truly meant for each other, wouldn’t they be able to understand each other perfectly? Parse couldn’t understand why Jack didn’t like to go to those parties, Parse didn’t understand why Jack had to take medicine to battle his anxiety, and Parse wouldn’t understand why Jack would have rather enlisted in rehab than the NHL.

            After that, Jack and Kent decided to go in different directions. While Kent was the 1stdraft pick for the NHL, Jack coached peewee hockey. While Kent was on a steady stream to the Stanley Cup, Jack enrolled in Samwell. While Kent secured win after wins with the Aces, Jack took time to captain the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team.

            Jack no longer exposed either of his tattoos to anyone. He preferred long-sleeved sweaters and shirts, and wouldn’t look at the marks unless absolutely necessary. It was common enough for people to keep that part of their life private by covering their marks, and no one thought anything of it when Jack underwent a wardrobe change.

            Jack’s life was getting better. While he tended to avoid news about certain hockey teams, he found himself steadily enjoying hockey again. No one questioned Jack too much about his life prior to Samwell, and he was gradually opening up and having fun with his teammates. So when the question about soulmates and enemies popped up, no one really noticed Jack not participating in the conversation.

            “I’ve already met my worst enemy,” Shitty, a fellow freshman confessed in a drunken haze. He had the habit of swaying his cup around as he spoke, successfully splashing the beer everywhere. “Summer. 2004. My grandparents took us out to their house on Martha’s Vineyard to celebrate the 4th of July, and there I met him. Elliot— _fucking_ —Parker, a blonde-haired blue-eyed who could trace his lineage back to the American Revolution. I saw _it_ when we went swimming on the coast.” Shitty made a face that was usually reserved to the lone jock strap at Faber that remains unclaimed. 

            “How did you know he wasn’t, like, your soulmate or anything?” One of the other tadpoles asked, leaning in with his legs crossed and arms wrapped around a pillow.

            “Because, that dude was an asshole. Simple as that. Kept going on-and-on about how certain places should only be reserved for people with respectable backgrounds, and that certain “progressive” legislation was going to turn America into hell’s toilet, and that the inclusion of a female on any dollar bill would be detrimental to our respect for our founding fathers. God, he was a dick-weed.” Shitty took another swig from his red cup. This time sprinkling a bit of the tub juice on the already decaying green couch.

            “You know, Shitty, there’s a fine line between love and hate. Maybe you should hit him up again.” A junior leaning against the refrigerator pointed out. He already met his soulmate by looks of the girl who was leaning on his chest intertwining their arms that were marked with similar black swirls and shapes. She stared up at her soulmate and kissed his jawline.

            “If my soulmate was someone I profoundly disagreed with, then I’m better off suited with no soulmate at all.” Shitty toasted with a raised red cup. Jack silently send out a small “amen” to that. 

            But Shitty did find his soulmate a few months later, during their sophomore year. A girl by the name of Larissa, who was an art major Shitty met when he got into a fight at a bar about gender conformity’s affect within the feminist movement with a PoliSci major. They were inseparable, and Lardo meshed perfectly with the rest of the Hockey team, even becoming their manager.

            Jack couldn’t help but think about Kent, who visited him at Samwell after securing the Stanley Cup and the Calder. Kent tried to make amends, but everything that came out of his mouth sounded like an insult and only succeeded in acting as a knife twisting Jack’s wounds. It didn’t take long for their discussion to turn heated. Soon, they were throwing angry jabs at one another, with the clear intent of hurting the other. In only ended when Kent clenched his teeth, shook his head, and left in an angry huff. He still didn’t understand.

            By this point, Jack didn’t want a soulmate anymore. While he and Kent were close for a while, it was over now. He just wanted to focus on school, hockey, and nothing else. So, Jack worked. He woke up early to jog, went to bed early to replenish his energy, ate healthy, and made sure to do his best on the ice. He made it perfectly clear to himself that he didn’t need anything like that anymore.

            But despite jack’s resolve to put the soulmate thing behind him, he couldn’t help but look into it a bit more. He had found out that people no longer became soulmates due to life-altering events and couldn’t help but think back to him and Kent. If he didn’t overdose, where would he be now? Would he and Parse have settled down somewhere by this point? Bought a house together? Had a dog or two? 

            Jack shook his head. It wouldn’t do good to focus on “what-ifs”. Jack stuck to the here and now, which meant committing himself to his team.

* * *

            By his junior year, Jack, “110%”, Zimmermann became dedicated to hockey. He drilled out harsh practices and ensured that all members of his team were up to shape. Which is why freshman Eric Bittle infuriated him. Bittle was a scrawny thing. Excluding Lardo, Bittle was the shortest member of the team, and he clearly wasn’t here for hockey. No, Bittle preferred baking pies than to taking checks. Bittle spend the majority of practice a nervous wreck avoiding being touch or on the floor when he almost does get checked. Jack couldn’t risk a weak link. So, he took to waking Bittle up for checking practice. He was going to make sure that Bittle could take a check during a real game and not cost them a victory.

            “Yo, bro, don’t you think you’re going a bit too hard on him? I mean, I know it’s pre-season, but you’ve been especially tough on him.” Ransom spoke out suddenly during a study session for their shared econ course. 

            “Hard on who?” Jack questioned not taking his eyes off of his notebook, which was littered with hundreds of small hockey-inspired doodles.

            “Bitty, man! You got that poor kid shaking in his skates’ every time you _look_ at him.” Shitty comments from across the table. He was currently trying to stack several animal crackers on a sleeping Holster’s head. 

            Jack looked up and met the eyes of a disapproving Ransom and Shitty. “He has to get over his fear of being checked if he wants to stay on the team. You both know Couch Hall and Couch Murray are just as skeptical of his longtime placement on this team as I am. Bittle has got to show his worth.”

            Ransom and Shitty shared a look. “Just ease up on him man, if he’s scared of you too much, how do you expect him to feel relaxed and comfortable enough around you during a game?” Shitty comments while snapping a shot of the animal cracker tower on Holster’s face, Lardo leaning into the shot with two fingers up in a peace formation.

            Jack didn’t comment and returned to his studies, but made a small mental note about how he approaches things with Bittle from then on.

* * *

 

            The first game of Junior year was rolling around, and Jack was feeling confident. His team was looking great this year, and they may have a great shot at playoffs. The only thing bothering him was that the game was taking place during the same time as parent’s visitation, meaning his Dad was going to be in the crowd. Jack couldn’t mess this up. He needed to show his Dad he was capable of doing things on his own now.

            The match was treacherous. By the 3rd period neither side had managed to score. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack notices a thin frame jumping over the barrier. Bittle was sent out, and he managed to secure the puck. Jack stood in jealous awe as Bittle managed to weave through the ice unguarded and score the first point of the game. A deafening roar of the crowd ensued. He narrowed his eyes, and focused on the game. No one else managed another point the rest of the game. It ended in their victory thanks to Bittle. 

            After the game, Jack’s Dad greeted him in front of the locker room. “That was an intense game, huh? I was a bit worried, but you stood your ground and didn’t let a shot get passed you. Great game.”

            Jack let out a small noise in absent agreement while he stood hunched over, his mind going over a million and ten possible ways that match could have gone better.  _Maybe if he sent out Shitty towards the puck during the second half, that would have—_

             “That small guy was great. Number 15. Bittle, I think. That was a clutch shot there, eh? It would be great if someone with his stature and speed could be on your line.” His Dad remarked while looking out at the ice with a fond smile on his face.      

            Jack grew angry, “you want Bittle on  _my line?_  Bittle can’t even handle checks, and the only real experience he’s had on the ice was a career in  _no-check hockey_ and _figure skating_ ”

            “You work well together. If you could see the way you two move on that ice, you would be 100 steps ahead of me in talking with Coach Hall about it.” His Dad comments, “Come on, I’ll walk you to the showers." 

* * *

 

            Jack knew he was being irrational, but he also knew that there was some truth to his anger. It was a lucky shot. Bittle was underestimated and completely open. The coaches knew this too, for them to put Bittle on Jack’s line meant no sense to him at all.             

            “Actually, Coach Hall and I both figured you wouldn’t be surprised. It’s pretty apparent you’re a better player when you’re with Bittle.” Coach Murray pointed out to Jack after the 1stline was assigned.

            Jack could only muster a small noise to signal he understood. They thought he was better when Bittle was around? What did that make him before Bittle? If he’s supposed to make it in the NHL, how the hell would making him depend on another player make him stand out? Jack was overcome with anger. He would not have another _Kent_ occur. He was no longer going to depend on another person to achieve his dream. So, Jack worked. Harder and harder. But, he began to notice someone else working just as hard. 

            Bittle was there for every practice. He worked hard. Even the morning checking practices Jack forced him to undergo were filled with tough determination and little to no complaints. Bittle never let Jack bother him too much. He still gave him bright smiles and baked him maple pecan pie whenever the stress of the matches was getting to him. Jack was also working along with Bittle. He maneuvered differently on the ice to better fit Bittle’s ability. Ransom said that his scoring increases 33% whenever Bittle was on the ice with him.

            He and Bittle started to meet regularly off the ice as well. Sometimes they would run into each other at the quad and go get coffee. Jack found himself doing things he normally didn’t do, that was until Bittle suggested it, then like magic, Jack suddenly found himself doing the very thing he didn’t do. Jack looked forward to spending time with Bittle. They’d spend hours chatting about anything ranging from Jack’s time as a peewee coach to Bittle’s adventures at the state fair defending MooMaw’s legendary snickerdoodles against “obviously store bought sugar cookies. Who does Mary-Ann think I am?” 

            Jack also knew that Bittle hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but came close when he met Mary-Ann Johnson, and saw a similar tattoo to the one he had on his arm. Both their families thought that they were destined to be together, but Bittle assured Jack that there was no way he and a store-bought-cookie offender could ever be soulmates.

            “I let them know real quick that there was no way we could be soulmates. You should’ve seen the look on MooMaw’s face when the mere thought of Mary-Ann being my soulmate was brought up. Especially since MooMaw’s own rival was her grandmother.”

            For reasons unknown to Jack, he was subconsciously glad Bittle didn’t have a soulmate yet. Whether it was because Jack’s own soulmate fell through, or he wanted someone else close to him to share in not having one quite yet. 

* * *

             Eventually, they were winning game after game and made it to the playoffs. Jack knew that the game against Quinnipiac was personal. For one thing, Holster’s own enemy was on that team, a big guy by the name of Brenner. Holster and him clashed on-and-off the ice. One of their pre-season games almost cost both teams when their respective defensemen started to aggressively check each other. 

            Things were tough. They were halfway through the game and victory was looking bleak. Jack had to use Bittle’s speed in order to get past the defense-men. Jack skated up to Bittle and told him his play, a scheme that involved Bittle going behind the goal post with the puck and sending it back to Jack. The D-men would follow, but allow and opening for Jack to score. Unfortunately, the only D-man near the goal was Brenner, and he was charging anyone from the Samwell team within a 5-meter radius. It didn’t do well that Bittle was still terrified of being checked.

            “Bittle. I’ve got your back,” Jack confides, his arm coming to rest reassuringly on Bittle’s back. 

            But Jack didn’t have his back. Bittle ended up getting hip-checked by Brenner halfway through the play and went rocketing in the air. Jack could only stand their motionless as he saw Bittle slowly traveling across the air. The faint noise of a whistle buzzing in the background. All other noise stopped. Everyone’s eyes were on Bittle. Holster yelled out in alarm, which garnered the attention of the D-man, whose eyes darted back to Bittle’s flying form. By the time Bittle landed, the D-man was already there successfully ripping Bittle’s jersey sleeve as he made a sharp slide on the ice.

            Luckily the D-man was taken out for the remainder of the game. Unluckily, so was Bittle. The game ended in their loss, since Jack couldn’t get the memory of the exposed tattoo on Bittle’s arm out of his head. It was a familiar swirl of black with a mash of curved and sharp shapes. It was a tattoo Jack saw nearly every day of his life. 

            Jack tried to get the image out of his head. It was a trick of the light. Something he wanted to see, but probably wasn’t actually there. Then Jack began to think if he ever saw Bittle’s arms, and while there were a couple of times his forearm showed, he never actually exposed his tattoo’s. At the end of the year banquet, when Jack was unanimously selected as captain, he couldn’t help but search for Bittle in the crowd, who was giving him the biggest smile Jack had ever seen and clapping just as loud as Shitty was.

            If Kent was Jack’s soulmate, then what did the make Bittle? His rival? Jack knew that they clashed early in their relationship, but they close now. Bittle hadn’t done anything remotely negative to Jack on purpose, and plus, wasn’t that Mary-Ann his rival? Or were Bittle and her truly soulmates, after all? If they were soulmates, then Jack had an obligation to tell Bittle, and not let him go on thinking is real soulmate was his rival.

            As Bittle was moving into his new room in the Haus, Jack knocked on his door.

            “Well, Mama, you tell her that— _Hello, Jack!_ I’ll call you back later, Mother.” Bittle said while juggling two boxes and holding the door to his closet open.

            Jack made himself comfortable leaning against the door frame, his athletics bag resting on his thigh. “Hey, Bittle, do you mind if I talk to you a bit?”

            “Not at all! Come right in! I was just chatting with my Mom about my new room in the Haus! I want to do a lot, now that I’m here, ya’ know? Get rid of that _nasty green couch_ , fix up some of the décor, make it a _real_ home! I’m tellin’ ya’ it’s a real health hazard to let some of this furniture stay here for one more year...” Throughout all of this, Jack’s eyes were glued onto Bittle’s upper arm, where the same tattoo Jack saw at playoffs and on his own arm laid. Bittle noticed his staring and was looking at the same tattoo too. A small blush appearing on his face.

            “Uhh, Jack? What did you need from me again?”

            Jack felt as if there was a lump stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit out loud that he was actually Bittle’s _enemy_. They built a fantastic friendship over the year, it didn’t make sense for them to destroy that because of things that were out of their control. But he had to say it, or else Bittle would end up spending years thinking that Mary-Ann was his enemy and would be waiting for a soulmate that would never show up. His own match with Kent may have been destroyed, but he didn’t need to destroy it for someone else.

            So, Jack took off his T-shirt, where on his left shoulder laid the exact same tattoo as Bittle’s.

            Bittle’s eyes grew wide as saucers. He opened and shit his mouth a few times. Eventually letting out a "Oh" that made his entire body get smaller.

            “I’m sorry, Bittle, I thought you should know. You should give that Mary-Ann girl a shot, someone once told me that there was a fine line between love and hate.” Jack gripped his bag tighter and stared at Bittle’s floorboards.

            Unknown to Jack, but Bitty’s face clearly wore an expression of pure confusion. Until realization dawned on him and he cleared his throat.

            “Jack, d-do you think that Mary-Ann is my soulmate?” Jack’s head shot up as soon as he heard Bittle’s voice. He stared mutely at Bittle, only shaking his head in confirmation. While he was happy that Bittle was realizing who his soulmate was, Jack was feeling the worst. His chest was tightening and he had a really huge ache in his heart. A feeling he chalked up to nerves. He didn’t want to be with another person who had a soulmate. His Mom and Dad. Shitty and Lardo. Holster and Ransom. Now, Bittle and Mary-Ann.

            Bittle’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Jack, do you _hate me?_ ”

            Jack whipped his head so fast, “No! I mean, I know we’re supposed to be enemies, but I think we get along great enough—” Jack would have continued if not for Bittle’s small giggling. 

            “I-I’m sorry,” replied Bittle, biting his lower lip to keep from siling. “Give me a minute.” Bittle took out his phone and was typing and clicking faster than Jack could process.

            “Bittle. Are you _tweeting this out?_ ”

            “No, silly! Here,” Bittle thrusted his white phone into Jack’s line of vision. On the screen was a picture of a curly-haired, blonde girl in the arms of a man who easily resembled a lumberjack. The caption read: “Mary-Ann found her soulmate at the County Fair! We are so pleased to welcome Buford Heathrow into our loving family. They truly get along like two peas in a pod!”

            Jack’s confusion was clearly written on his face, if Mary-Ann found her soulmate, then what of Bittle?

            Bittle understood Jack’s confusion, and quickly spoke up. “Jack, don’t you see? We’re…” Bittle’s blush went full-scale.

            Suddenly, everything seemed to click. Jack couldn’t help but stare at Bitty. It all made sense to him now. His behavior towards Bittle, especially recently, seemed to make sense. Any thoughts of Kent Parson went out of Jack’s mind as he grabbed Bitty by the shoulders and kissed him. It was awkward at first, Jack hadn’t kissed anyone since Kent when they were 16, but Bitty easily changed that, and soon they were on Bitty’s bed. Jack felt great. He didn’t realize that this is what soulmates were meant to be. For years, he thought his connection to Parson was what was meant for soulmates. He never knew it would be 100x better than his happiest moment with Parson. Bitty easily guided him as they were kissing, but as soon as Jack got the hang of things, he took control, and gripped both of Bitty’s wrists as he eagerly tried to make up for missed kisses.

* * *

            Jack and Bitty kept up correspondence throughout the summer. Jack told his parents he met his soulmate, and they both were ecstatic for them. Jack’s Mom already fawning over Bitty’s skills in the kitchen. Jack’s Dad was surprised at first, thinking that Jack never took a liking to Number 15, but welcomed Bitty full-heartedly when he saw how wide Jack’s smile was.

            Bitty’s parents were also happy for them. Suzanne laughing especially hard when Bitty told them of how Jack thought Mary-Ann was his soulmate.

            Parson visited Jack one more time during his Senior year at Samwell. Parson, still believing they were destined for one another, pleaded for Jack once more to give up this farce of a hockey career and join him in the big leagues. When Jack made it clear that he found his actual soulmate, Parson left in an angry mood, casting a sharp glare at a particularly tiny, blonde, southern bell attached to Jack's hip.

* * *

  _A few years later_

            Jack opened the door to his Providence apartment, arching his back in a long stretch. He dropped his keys and jacket by the door and followed the smell of chocolate to a dazzling white kitchen. Standing in the doorway, Jack’s eyes came to rest on a small figure grabbing a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. A warm feeling began to spread in his chest that made it hard to breath. No matter what, it was the best feeling in the world to Jack, and he never wanted it to stop. Walking over, Jack slid his arms around Bitty’s small frame and bent down for a kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the feedback! I appreciate every bookmark, kudo, and comment. I'm glad that some of you guys enjoyed it.


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